Unknown
by joyfulandreia
Summary: Horatio won't let it take over, but he has no choice to accept it. He can fight it as much as he wants, but he won't win. It never loses. DARKFIC.
1. Chapter 1

**Quick Note:**

The second chapter has the actual story. This is just a note for the readers to know that this story has been posted up already but I edited it too for Halloween. There are some subtle changes so you'll have to read it to notice it.

For those who haven't even read it all than you can just ignore this chapter and move onto the second chapter. And remember, if you have any questions you want to ask, please feel free to ask and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Reviews are good but I won't hound you for them. As long as you read my stories than I'm happy.

Enjoy….. Happy Halloween.

-andreia.


	2. Unknown

**NOTE :** I rewrote this. So read, enjoy and review!

**Unknown.**

His dim-lit house was filled with silence except for the pouring rain hitting the exterior of the house. The only source of light was from the television and the full moon, which despite the windows covered by a silk fabric; still shinned through. Because of this, the living room had a certain glow to it, gave Horatio a glow. He didn't notice of course, but he did notice how tonight was different, different enough to send chills down his back. This explains him sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine in hand. His ocean blue eyes focused on the movie as with each sip of wine, he found himself relaxing.

The sounds of the rain soothed the lieutenant whose days were filled with bloodshed and pain. There were times when he wanted to give up and surrender. The only thing that pushed him forward was the voice in his head, telling him to give up. He wouldn't listen instead he ignored it and proved that he had the strength to continue despite the fact that he was dying inside, becoming numb.

Many times Horatio wanted to listen to what the voices say. To give up. Those days are usually filled with death and tears. Like witnessing the death of his colleague, Tim Speedle. Or being there when his brother was dying and he didn't have the power to save him and could only promise the safety of Ray Jr. Horatio's undoing was the death of Marisol, his beloved wife. Holding her hand in the hospital as life escaped her body was heartbreaking, he was positive her death blew out the candle. Her death turned him numb, turned his heart cold. But he didn't know it until it became too late.

That numb feeling turned into anger when Antonio was sent to Brazil and was set free. Horatio felt cheated, he was cheated. The system he trusted, the system he devoted his whole life to had let him down. Justice _was not_ served.

His anger caused problems for Horatio found himself wanting to attack the criminals, wanting to resort to violence instead of following the law. Horatio's dreams took a turn for the worst, he dreamt of his father and his belt. He dreamt about the look on his mother's face as she died. The smile on his father's face as he inadvertently killed him. But recently, his dreams are keeping him up. They always started the same. An argument with Marisol. With each dream of her, the ending would change. Marisol would always die in different ways and it was always by Horatio's hands.

Horatio needed help, he knew that and despite knowing it, he wasn't going to get it. He didn't want it and he hoped he would get better with time. Simply because Horatio wasn't a bad man, he always followed the law. Although that changed while he was in Brazil. With the courts letting Antonio go free, the voice in his head came back. It kept telling him to do what needed to be done, to kill. During the whole trip, he ignored it until he finally came face to face with the criminal.

Horatio didn't know, it was as if someone or something took over him. He knew it was wrong to kill but he had to, he needed this piece of mine. Though the redhead refused to think he killed a man in cold blood because that just wasn't him, was it? But he knew one thing, watching that pathetic excuse of a man die, Horatio has lost it, there was no going back.

It's no secret how dangerous Miami can be but Horatio and his team worked around the clock to protect the citizens of Miami. With all his years on the force, Horatio still had trouble wrapping his mind around the cruel things humans were capable of doing to each other. How can someone capable of love and affection is also capable of killing another human being? It's disgraceful to see how they have no remorse of committing a crime but only regret getting caught. For the exception of Antonio, the only time Horatio took a life was in self defense. It was his life or theirs. That was the rules of the game.

However because of who he is and what people saw him as, Horatio had again, no choice but to continue on to be this hero everyone wanted. He made a promise to protect and serve, he couldn't back down now. Not if he wanted one of the voices to go away, the voice of his father.

**"You`ll never amount to anything."**

Those bitter words hit him like a heart attack. Sweat formed on his forehead, his heartbeat quicken. Horatio shivered in his seat, the grip on his wine glass tightened to the point where the glass shattered. The carpet soaked up the wine, the glass cut his hand. He didn't feel a thing. He stared at the blood drip onto the carpet, he was flabbergasted. No pain, no string.

A woman's deadly screams bought him out of his trance. Standing up, Horatio walked into his kitchen and headed towards the sink. The blood didn't seem to spill from his hand but instead pool around the large cut on his palm. Turning on the faucet, he put his hand into the water. Again, he felt nothing. Only when Horatio covered his cut with a rag did the pain emerge.

Ignoring the growing pain in his hand, Horatio went back into the living room to clean up the mess. As soon as he did, he took his seat back on the couch. The television did nothing to keep his attention focused on the movie. Instead his thoughts began to take over.

"It's time Horatio, give in."

He jumped out of his seat. It was happening again.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his blood ran cold, a shiver ran through him when he felt a chill. His breath quickened, he was stuck in place. The voice was growing louder; the aging redhead was terrified. It felt like one of his nightmares but they were never this intense.

Any noise drifted into the background as screams escaped from his mouth which too drifted off into the background. By this time, his hands were covered in blood, no patch of skin was clear. His heartbeat quickened, sweat formed on his forehead. Horatio ran back to the sink, rinsed his hands. Within seconds, the water turned red.

Blood Red.

His house was engulfed by darkness. The voice returned.

"**Don't fight it, accept it. It's the only way Horatio**."

The voice was high like a woman but there was something about it that made Horatio feel uncomfortable. It was filled with terror, filled with…

"**It's part of you, don't fight it. It's who you are**."

The doorbell rang. Everything was back to normal. The voice was gone and he was back on the couch. He was able to hear the rain and the television. He checked his hands, they were clean. There was no blood and definitely no cut. The carpet wasn't even soiled with wine. The glass in question was placed on the coffee table. But the smell, the odor of blood was still in the air.

The bell ran once, twice then silence. Running his hands through his hair, he headed towards the door.

When he passed by the mirror, he stopped himself short. His hair had gotten darker and he looked paler. It was just this morning that he noticed his red hair was fading and now it seemed like the color was back, brighter and darker. Horatio noticed how empty his eyes were and yet, they still said something. He felt different inside, he just couldn't explain it. That was when he placed his hand over his chest. Nothing.

No heartbeat.

There wasn't time to react for when the doorbell ran the third time, he went to answer. Any and all thoughts about his lack of heartbeats left his mind. Horatio didn't even take notice of when his eye color changed from blue to pitch black.

Gripping the door handle, he felt the same chill go up his spine. A tightening feeling in his chest quickly followed. The door was pulled back and all Horatio saw was the rain but the chill grew colder and heavier before the door slammed closed on its own. Horatio leaned against the door, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

"What the hell is going on? I'm not that old to be having hallucinations." He ran his hand through his hair. "What the fuck is happening to me?"

"**You're fighting it, but you can't. You can't fight your nature anymore; you can't pretend to be good anymore. It'll just drive you crazy**."

Horatio pounded his head with his fists. "Get the hell out of my head." He felt something happening but he was having a tough time explaining it. He wanted to cry, he wanted to hit something but he just couldn't. Something was stopping him. But he felt tired, his bones ached. He tried to fight it but his body, his mind wasn't allowing him to. He found himself walking to his bedroom and when he noticed the bedroom light was on, Horatio tried walking away but whatever it was that was pulling him in wasn't allowing it. The bedroom door opened and the minute he stepped foot inside his room, the door slammed closed.

Horatio's room was dark but there was a glow directly on top of his bed which was calling him, a call that Horatio answered. He found himself slipping underneath the covers. The minute his head hit the pillow, he closed his eyes but within seconds his eyes opened wide.

"**Welcome**."

Horatio couldn't move, he couldn't breathe. He tried to scream but nothing came out. All he could do was feel. He felt the woman's tiny body on his, crushing him. He felt something, someone crawling inside his skin and when he tried to scratch it away, all he managed to do was cut himself which caused him to bleed out. Normally it causes him pain but in this case, he felt relieved. As he felt the crawling sensation again, he retorted to hurting himself to get rid of it until…

"**Stop**."

Her voice turned deep and loud. He stopped all movement. She was beautiful; her long brown hair went past her shoulders. The dress she wore hugged her curves perfectly. Horatio licked his lips. Then she turned. Her skin turned red and her hands were burnt. Her captivating green eyes turned pitch black and her red-ruby lips were cracked and her tongue was split in two. All Horatio could do was stare.

"**Don't fight it**."

She raised her hand and scratched him, making her mark on his face. Three deep cuts marked his face and despite the fact that the cuts are deep, there was no blood. The woman leaned in and licked his wounds and when she pulled back, she watched in amusement as the wounds closed but the scratches stayed.

The crawling feeling returned and this time, Horatio was paralyzed. It felt like something was ripping his skin apart. The crawling feeling started from his feet and moved up to his legs, his stomach, his chest, his damaged arms and when there was another bolt of thunder, the crawling feeling hit his face. This time, he screamed and it echoed through the walls of his house. There was a bolt of lightning and it beamed on his face. It was clear there whatever was crawling in his skin had moved up to his eyes, turning them pitch back.

Calleigh Duquesne laid in bed, trying to fall asleep when she heard someone at the door. The blonde took a glance at the clock and groaned. It was 2:30 in the morning, who could possibly be at her door at a time like this. Mumbling underneath her breath, she threw the covers off her body and walked towards the door.

"This better be an emergency." Calleigh shouted as she walked closer and closer to the door. Sure, she wasn't exactly sleeping but she was comfortable and warm in her bed, something she needed after her last chilling case.

She pulled opened the door and before she spoke, she arched her eyebrow. There was nobody there. She flared her nostrils when she realized that it could have just been some prank. "Kids." She whispered. Then she noticed how dry everything seemed despite the fact that it was pouring just a few minutes ago. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair as she closed the door and headed back to her bedroom.

Before she took one step, she was pushed up against the door. A hand wrapped around her neck, tightening its hold on her. Everything she learned in her defense classes, in her academy training went out the window when the figure had managed to lift her up with just one hand. Calleigh resorted to kicking but she was overpowered when he slammed his body onto hers. The dark figure threw her to the floor and kicked her in the stomach. She groaned in pain as she wrapped her arm around her stomach, tears formed in her eyes. She wasn't going to give up without a fight. Bullet Girl managed to kick him in the chest. As the figure groaned in pain, Calleigh took that chance to crawl away.

She only reached her living room when the figure had kicked her once again in the stomach. He delivered another blow to her sides, hard enough to hear her ribs crack. Calleigh cried out as her hands instantly went to her side, a big mistake. The figure was on top of her again.

"Please, leave me alone." She cried out to her attacker. Fear overtook her body.

One hand went to her neck and squeezed tightly while the other went into her mouth and grabbed onto her chin. She felt the air being squeezed out of her petite body and felt the pain in her jaw. A bolt of thunder hit and her eyes grew wide. Black eyes. Red hair. Scratched cheek.

Calleigh screamed and kicked. A bone cracking echoed throughout the apartment and Calleigh was silent.

The next morning, there wasn't a dry eye in the Crime Lab. Calleigh Duquesne. Eric Delko. Ryan Wolfe. Frank Tripp. Natalia Boa Vista.

**Dead.**

Horatio Caine.

**Gone**.

Whatever happened last night, the investigators planned on working around the clock to arrest to horrific criminal. But there was no evidence. All that they had to work with was the dead bodies who were all found in their living rooms. The cause of death for each victim was the same. Broken jaws and a faint handprint on their necks, a handprint that shows the murderer had burnt hands. While the criminalists were found dead, there was no sign of Horatio Caine. Nobody knew what to think.

The following night, the dark figure walked through the night. Rain poured down hard but the figure was dry. His face was hidden but his bright red hair sticked out of his black jacket, along with his scratched check and his burnt hands.

"_Horatio_."

He stopped at the mention of his name. The woman appeared and nodded her head. She was gone. A car drove past him soon after and stopped a few feet away from him. Horatio walked towards it.

"Need a lift?" The driver asked as he rolled down the window. Horatio chuckled and walked to the passenger's side, his nails marking the door, the same mark on his cheek, before he jumped into the car and a scream was heard in the distance...


End file.
